


Bird

by yeaka



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George discovers the root of Henry’s nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired by s9e2 wherein Henry’s a bit of a prick.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Murdoch Mysteries or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s down to the two of them at the end of their shift change again, because Henry dragged his feet at their shared desk and, for some reason, George stayed there to listen. Even now, Henry dallies, still in his uniform with just the front unbuttoned, while George is down to civilian clothes. He’s tying his boot with his foot on the bench behind them when Henry starts prattling on again: “They really should give me a new uniform, being that I’m a constable _first class_ and all.” Rolling his eyes, George finishes and gets both feet on the floor, turning back to the row of lockers Henry’s hovering over. He’s eyeing himself in the little mirror hanging from the back of his, preening like a cat. “And one that shows my rank a bit better, you know? Show that I’m _above_ all the others.”

Something _snaps_ in George. It’s been a long day, like their hands-on, bloody job is wont to be, but Henry’s made it so much _worse_ , on and on, nonstop, about his new promotion _above George_. George takes that one step forward and grabs Henry’s shoulder, whirs him around, and then he slams Henry right back into the row of lockers hard enough to make them shake. He’d _never_ do that with anyone else, but they have a precedent and Henry _deserves it_. He looks at George with wide eyes, while George pins him in place, one hand on each bicep, and asks, half growling and half hurt, “Why are you being so _insufferable_?”

For a moment, Henry just blinks. But then the smile comes back to his lips, lopsided and quirked on one end, which bizarrely just makes him cuter. His stupid slicked back hair and his pilfered perfume don’t hurt, either. His eyes dart quickly up George’s body, and he murmurs through his grin, “So jail did toughen you up, eh George?”

George makes a face, _staring_ at him. Henry just keeps eyeing him, now obvious, more so than should ever be in this locker room, however alone they are at the moment. It makes George realize, slowly and half-aloud, “You... you’re _trying_ to ruffle me up.” 

Henry shrugs his shoulders in George’s hands. He’s probably trying to look nonchalant, but he just comes off cheeky. “It’s been a while since we fooled around,” he admits, and suddenly _he’s_ the one with the nerve to put a touch of offense in his voice, “and you haven’t touched me since you came back.”

“I almost got married,” George blurts incredulously.

Henry just repeats, “Almost.”

“You’re such a brat!”

“So spank me.” Henry tries to shrug again, but now George’s grip is too tight to let him.

A part of George is fuming, and a smaller part is amused, because Henry just won’t let the _fun_ get sucked out of him, and of course George missed some of this teasing, of their play on the side. But it was always on the _side_ , and he doesn’t feel guilty for dropping it for the things that matter. Henry grins at him like it’s all on offer again, like nothing ever happened. No one’s ever infuriated George like Henry Higgins. 

But no one baits him so well, and he splutters for a moment before letting out a frustrated growl and diving forward, shoving their mouths together. It’s just like he remembered; Henry tilts for him, opens for him, is soft and warm and _good_ , and strangely obedient in his arms. He expects Henry to break free and thread needy fingers back through his hair, but instead Henry stays in place and lets George’s tongue guide him. George is _devouring_ him a moment later, one ear to the door but mostly focused on _Henry bloody Higgings_ kissing him back with fire. 

Henry doesn’t stop there but _writhes_ , grinds into George so wanton and moans noisily into his mouth, so that George has to clumsily swallow it away. George grinds back, having the advantage; he can trap Henry’s hips against the metal of the lockers and flatten Henry underneath him. He shoves one leg between Henry’s thighs to pry them open, and before long he’s got a hard bulge rubbing against his own. He keeps meaning to _stop_ , but it’s been too long and his body missed this, and the taste of Henry is strangely intoxicating. 

When George does finally pull back, it’s only because he’s afraid he’ll spend them both right here, and they’ll leave too suspicious. Even when they pull apart they’re touching in so many places. Close enough to feel Henry’s breath on his cheek, George murmurs, “Is that what you wanted?”

Henry shivers in clear _lust_ and nods, moaning, “ _Yes_.” George wants to fuck him right into the floor of the stationhouse. 

Somehow, George resists. He pulls back properly, all the way to the bench, his hands slipping from Henry’s arms. He says as sternly as he can, “Then stop being such a prat.” 

Henry still grins, but George goes to shut his own locker and leave, ready to go, while Henry scrambles and calls after him, “George, wait!” Then, when George isn’t stopping and is just rounding the corner: “I’ll see you at home!”


End file.
